


Ebb Tide

by Jael, pir8grl



Series: Voyages of the Canary [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: Um, is piratical domestic fluff a thing?  Well, it is now…  The Canary has a brief layover in Sara’s hometown between adventures.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as we were finishing up Canary 3. Initially, it was intended to be a brief, domestic scene to segue into the next adventure. And then I realized that I was up to four thousand words, with no end in sight, and without Jael even having read any of it yet. We both agreed that it seemed awkward to start an adventure that far into the story, so we decided to let this stand on its own. 
> 
> Again, we’re utilizing some elements of Sara’s somewhat rocky reunion with her family from Arrow Season 2, but rest assured, everyone WILL get a happy ending! And on that note, please mind the rating...you’ll find out what it’s for at the end.
> 
> Ebb tide is the point of the tidal cycle when the water is running away from shore, revealing all sorts of things that have been hidden.

* * *

**Marblehead, Massachusetts Bay Colony**

 

Sara Lance loved her family; truly, she did, but right at this moment, she was becoming increasingly aware of all the reasons she’d so eagerly accepted Oliver’s invitation to board the Queen’s Gambit all those years ago. 

“I do wish you’d stay with us while you’re here,” Dinah Lance said, in a gently scolding tone. She slid a platter of apple cakes, Sara’s childhood favorite, onto the table. 

Sara sighed softly, and Leonard spoke up, answering for both of them. 

“Thank you, Mistress Lance, but we’re more comfortable aboard ship.” 

“Good,” Laurel muttered under her breath. The other woman had alternated between seeming genuinely glad to have her sister back and a chilly silence, during which she seemed to be staring at her hands.

“Laurel!”

“What? The walls aren’t thick enough for what they likely get up to.” 

(Privately, Leonard mused to himself that Laurel was probably right. He couldn’t help smirking to himself over that, especially since everyone else was looking at Laurel.)

“That’s enough, young lady,” Quentin said firmly. “Your sister and her friend are guests in our home.” 

“Friend? Is that what you’re calling it?” Laurel’s voice was tinged with scorn...and something a bit more complicated. “Are they even married, or are they just going to bring another scandal down on us?” 

Sara shoved back her chair and got to her feet. “You know what? I’m not going to scandalize anyone. We’re leaving.” 

“Sara, no!” Dinah cried, agast. “Quentin, do something!” 

Quentin looked a bit beleaguered. “Laurel, stop this. We’ve only just got your sister back -”

But Laurel had been waiting years to say some of this, and now that the shock (and, yes, relief) of finding out her sister was alive had receded somewhat, she was damn well going to say it. “So what? She ran off with my suitor, then we hear that they’re dead, then she turns up, years later, on a pirate ship and in the company of a known jewel thief.” 

Leonard got to his feet, carefully schooling his countenance and tone. “Miss Lance, there are things in my past that I’m not proud of, but -”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Sara told him, yanking open the door. 

An elegantly dressed blonde woman was poised on the doorstep, hand raised to knock. “Sara, dear! It really is you. I was so happy to hear that you’d returned home.” She enfolded Sara in a genteel embrace. 

“Mistress Queen,” Sara replied, stepping back and carefully steadying her voice, not daring to imagine what they must have sounded like from outside. “I’d intended to come and call on you before we left.” 

The other woman took a deep breath. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me something of Robert or Oliver.” 

“So were we,” Laurel said, rather acidly. Still, having said the initial words, some of the wind seemed to have gone out of her sails. She continued sitting at the table, staring at her hands.

“Perhaps I might visit you in your office?” Sara suggested, with a hint of desperation. 

“Nonsense, my dear. We’re all here.” 

Dinah rebounded, then. “Of course. Please do come in.” 

As if startled from a trance, Quentin jumped to his feet and held a chair for their guest, throwing his younger daughter a tiny, guilty glance.

Resigned to the inevitable, Sara and Leonard returned to their seats. Leonard reached out under the table and wrapped his long fingers around Sara’s smaller, cold ones. She squeezed them in return, holding on as if to a lifeline.

“Now, what can you tell me of the Queen’s Gambit?” Moira asked, in her usual regal manner. She folded her hands on the table and looked at Sara inquiringly … and maybe only Leonard noticed how white her knuckles were.

“We never made it to Jamaica.” Sara’s voice walked the hairline between pained and numb, as her fingers tightened even more around Leonard’s and she kept her gaze fixed on the painting hanging on the wall opposite her seat.

“That much we knew.” Moira’s voice continued, deceptively calm. “When the ship became overdue, we received a report from our offices in Port Royal. Eventually, the ship was declared lost, with all hands, by our insurers. What can you tell me that I don’t know?” And there...a tiny little crack at the end.

“The Gambit went down in a terrible storm.” Sara’s voice, however, was fully numb now. “I floated on a piece of wreckage for a day or so...it can’t have been much longer than that.” 

“No.” Moira’s voice cracked like a whip, about as painful. “You couldn’t have survived without fresh water.” 

Sara nodded. “I never saw another soul.” Her voice, at this point, was just above a whisper.

“Have you any notion as to the ship’s position when it went down?” Moira asked intently, leaning forward.

“Not really.” The two words were barely breathed.

Laurel made a noise that could only be described as a snort, although her mother quickly sent her a admonishing look. “I thought you commanded your own ship?” she scoffed. 

The words actually had a positive effect: that of turning Sara’s thoughts from the painful past to the annoying present. “I do now. I didn’t then,” she replied, through gritted teeth. 

“A guess, perhaps?” Moira tried to keep the desperation out of her voice… but Leonard, at least, heard it.

“I remember the captain saying we were close to Jamaica,” Sara told her. “A bit east of Nassau, maybe?” 

“Those waters have a peculiar reputation,” Moira agreed. 

Dinah cut in, then, seemingly trying to cut the intensity in the room. “But how is it that you survived, darling?” she asked.

It didn’t help much. “I was picked up by a passing ship,” Sara replied shortly. 

“They rescued you?” Quentin asked, raising his head, not liking something in her tone. 

Leonard squeezed Sara’s hand harder under the table. He knew how long it had taken him to coax the story from her, and knew this wasn’t easy...especially not with an audience. 

“Not...quite.” 

Sara’s fingers dug into Leonard’s hand painfully, and he gently stroked his thumb over her knuckles, trying to impart a measure of calm. 

“I don’t understand,” Dinah was saying, completely deaf to her daughter’s pain or most of the undercurrent in the room.“Why didn’t they bring you home? Or at least drop you at a port where you could send a message?” 

“It’s complicated, Mum.” Sara winced as the words left her mouth. She’d been saying that far too often to her family. 

Moira’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, as she guessed there was a great deal not being said aloud. “Well, at any rate, I have something for you, Sara,” she said, regaining a measure of calm. “The man you defeated, Slade Wilson, was wanted for a great many crimes. He seemed to take particular pleasure in sinking my ships, or those contracted to carry my cargo. You’ve done me a great service.” 

“Are we certain he’s really dead?” Sara asked intently, leaning forward. “Wilson was almost inhumanly strong. If anyone could have made it ashore from the Deathstroke, it’s him.” 

“I saw a man in a green hood shoot an arrow through the eye of a man wearing one of those black-and-orange masks,” Quentin supplied, suddenly. “Scary big fella.” 

“But has the body been recovered?” The line of questioning had Sara taking control again, focusing on what she could control. Her tone was businesslike, brisk, completely not the tone any gently raised young woman would take in delivering such a line. (Across the table, Laurel look intrigued.)

“Sara!” Dinah gasped, horrified. 

“Not that I know of,” Moira admitted, sitting back, tone mirroring Sara’s. “but you destroyed his ship. Even if Wilson did somehow survive, he has no ship and no crew. It will be quite some time before he’s in a position to trouble anyone again.”

Moira paused, then, and reached into the small silk bag she carried, producing a parchment that she slid across the table to Sara. 

“I had this drawn up for you. It carries my signature and seal,” she said quietly. “Present it at any office of my company, anywhere in the world, and they will provide whatever assistance you require. Supplies, repairs, information - anything.” 

“That’s very generous of you, Mistress Queen. Thank you,” Sara replied, her tone equally quiet.

“Of course, my dear.” The older woman rose gracefully to her feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your reunion.” 

Quentin scrambled to his feet to usher their guest out, leaving a tense silence behind them.

After a moment, Laurel broke that silence.

“So that’s it?” she demanded, staring at Sara incredulously. “You didn’t even give her a straight answer about Ollie or Master Queen, and she gave you a reward?” 

Leonard, at this point, had had enough. He knew Sara’s story, as well as anyone on this Earth did, and he understood her pain as well as any man could. And he wasn’t willing to take more of this.

“Miss Lance,” he said calmly, squeezing Sara’s hand, “a storm in the open ocean is a deadly and dangerous thing. Everything is cold and black, and you can’t tell which way is up.” His voice grew colder and slower, emphasizing the words as the others stilled. “Every second breath you draw is water, and every moment you expect to be your last. It’s impossible to think, and there is literally no room for anything other than trying to keep air in your lungs.” 

Laurel stared at him, wide-eyed. He stared back, sober and silent.

“You sound like you’ve been through one of those storms,” Quentin observed quietly. 

“I have, sir. Sara and her crew rescued me.” 

Laurel’s eyes narrowed as she looked back at her sister. “How did you end up in command of a pirate ship?” she asked, an undertone of genuine curiosity in her voice. “And don’t say it’s complicated.” 

“Darling, please, we just want to know what happened to you,” Dinah implored, her gaze following Laurel’s. 

“I know, Mum,” Sara said as calmly as possible. She squeezed her eyes shut a moment. “Laurel, I’m sorry I went with Ollie. I’m sorry I got on board that ship, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I made a lot of tough choices after that, and some of them were the wrong choice, but I’m not going to apologize for them, because sometimes, all the choices I could see were bad.” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and opened her eyes, looking at her sister steadily. “You’re my sister, and I will always love you, but I am not going to apologize for surviving.” 

With that, Sara pushed herself to her feet and, not looking at anyone, went out the door. 

“Quentin, go after her!” 

Leonard rose to his feet. “Maybe let her cool down a bit,” he suggested, eyes on Quentin as he countered Dinah’s frantic order. “I promise we won’t leave port without at least sending word.” 

Quentin nodded. Something about this man teased at the edges of his constable’s instincts, but...Sara was a grown woman now. She made her own choices--and she’d chosen Leonard. Quentin didn’t ever want to lose his daughter again, so he would accept them both. 

“You tell her from me--I don’t care what she did to survive,” he told the younger man in a low voice, earnestness threaded through his tone. “I’m just glad she did.”

* * *

Leonard’s longer legs easily caught up to Sara, despite how briskly she was walking. Her head was down and her arms crossed, but he knew she was aware of his presence.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” she murmured in a low tone as he joined her.

He sighed as he fell into step besides her. “Sara, your parents are overjoyed to have you back.” 

“And my sister wishes that I really was dead.” Her voice was more flat than bitter, with a touch of self-loathing lurking around the edges.

“She’ll come around.” 

Sara sighed and shook her head, but didn’t argue. “What’s that?” she asked curiously, eyeing the small basket Leonard carried. 

“Some of the apple cakes your mother made for you. I asked if I might have one, for Sin.” 

Sara looked up at him, and her lips twitched upward in a semblance of a smile. She looped her arm through his. 

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, after a long moment of companionable silence. “Especially what Laurel said.”

“It’s fine. It’s hardly a strange thing for a lady’s family to ask her suitor’s intentions.” 

The words hung in the air a moment, giving both parties time to consider them.

“And what **_are_** your intentions?” Sara asked curiously, watching him as they walked.

“You wear my ring, and you have my heart. That’s all I need.” He looked back down at her. “What about you? Do you want a vicar and all that?” 

Sara hugged his arm. “I haven’t thought that way in a very long time. I have you, and I’m happy.” 

“But actually getting married _would_ please your parents.” His words were quiet, and Sara frowned.

“I’m not going to push you to do something you don’t want, just to make someone else happy,” she said firmly. “That’s not who we are.” 

Leonard shrugged, a brief lift and fall of shoulders that somehow managed to convey a wealth of response.

“I would do it,” he said quietly, “to please you.” 

“And what would please you?” Sara countered immediately, a trifle surprised at the conversation’s direction--and the conflicting emotions in her heart.

Leonard sucked in a deep breath, and choose his next words with care. “When I saw you with Lisa’s baby, I thought...that is...I never really considered such a thing before, but I might...with you…” 

Sara swung around and kissed his cheek lightly, to stop the stammering. “I never really considered such a thing either--at least, not for a long time--but I might...with you.”

* * *

They were nearly to the docks when a fine carriage, followed by a loaded wagon, pulled to a stop before them. A handsome, dark-haired man emerged from the carriage.

“Sara? Sara Lance, it ** _is_** you!” 

“Tommy?” Sara’s voice was disbelieving, but not upset, so Leonard relaxed from his instinctive tension, watching as the newcomer approached.

The young man smiled and engulfed her in a friendly hug. After a moment, he straightened, then bowed courteously, all the while wearing a mischievous smile. “Thomas Merlyn, Esquire.”

“Esquire?” Sara exclaimed. 

“My father insisted. I’ve just returned from studying in London, on board The Flash. I heard about what you did, but my man at arms wouldn’t let me off the boat until the waterfront was secured. You and your ship are the talk of Boston. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.” 

“Thank you, Tommy.” Sara took a deep breath, then gave Leonard a half smile and motioned to him. “This is Leonard Snart. Leonard, Tommy is...was…” 

“Oliver Queen was my best friend,” the newcomer offered simply. “Sara, if you made it, is there any chance at all?” 

Leonard noticed that Tommy’s fine, fashionable clothes, along with Sara’s breeches, were beginning to garner stares. “Is there someplace else we can talk?” he cut in. “Someplace not so… exposed?”

“The coffee house?” Tommy suggested. 

 

***

 

Snart returned to their table with two steaming mugs of chocolate. “They don’t have the tea you like,” he explained, sliding one in front of Sara. The proprietor appeared himself a moment later, with Tommy’s coffee on a silver tray. Sara raised an eyebrow in amusement, and looked at the other man, who seemed a bit sheepish.

“I’m surprised that your father is still in town. I’d have thought he’d be more comfortable in Boston,” Sara observed. 

Tommy laughed, rather mirthlessly, as he stirred his coffee aimlessly a moment before putting the spoon down. “My father and Mistress Steele both have a liking to be the big fish in the small pond,” he said in an odd tone. “In Boston, they’d just be two more grand merchants, in a city that’s full of them. Here...they control everything.” 

“Mistress Steele?” Sara asked, curiously. 

“Forgive me. Oliver’s mother. She married again; an English banker. Rather mysterious fellow. No one ever sees him, but his bank drafts are always good.” 

“I saw her earlier.” Sara sipped her chocolate, raising an eyebrow at Leonard, who was following the conversation with great interest. “I’d wondered how she was able to talk of having offices in foreign cities. I called her Mistress Queen. I certainly hope I didn’t give offense.” 

“She answers to either name, so no worries on that score. She runs the business, and the business is still called ‘Queen.’ She’s done well for herself,” Tommy allowed. He reached for Sara’s hand. “Please...is there anything you can tell me of Oliver?” 

“I’m afraid not,” Sara told him sadly. “There was a terrible storm. When I came to, I was adrift on a piece of wreckage. I never saw another soul from the Gambit. I’m sorry...I know you were close.” 

Tommy squeezed her hand, then released it. His next words were for Leonard’s benefit, but the emotion in them seemed quite real. “My mother died when I was quite young, and my father...well, let’s just say, Oliver’s father did more for me than my own ever did.” 

“I know, Tommy,” Sara replied. “I wish I could tell you more.” 

The other man shook his head, sadness in his eyes, then closed them and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he reclaimed his smile and turned to Sara with every evidence of enthusiasm. “But you! What happened? Were you rescued, and how did you come to command your own ship?” 

“It’s a very long and complicated story, Tommy, and I haven’t been able to tell my own family all of it, yet.” Sara’s tone was fond, Leonard heard with amusement. Somehow, she liked this frivolous-seeming fellow.

“Of course...I just hoped...if you survived, maybe, somehow, Oliver did, too.” 

“I’d like to believe that, Tommy, I really would.” 

Into the silence that followed came the sound of footsteps. A footman in fine livery had entered the coffee house and now approached their table. “Master Thomas, your father is expecting you,”he said in a tone that suggested that such duties were an all-too-common occurrence.

Tommy waved him off. “Duty calls, I suppose. Will I get a chance to see that remarkable ship of yours while you’re here?” 

“Perhaps,” Sara said, smiling. 

“Good. I’d like that very much. I envy you your freedom. And…are those your mother’s apple cakes?” he asked, eyeing the basket with a winsome look that had Sara offering one, much to the chagrin of the proprietor. Tommy wrapped his treat in a handkerchief and tucked it into his coat pocket, smiling gleefully. “And will I find your sister at home?” 

“I believe so.” 

Tommy patted his lips with a napkin, then rose. He nodded to Leonard and Sara, then turned and departed. 

“Interesting fellow,” Leonard observed, sipping his chocolate. Privately, he thought he’d be inclined to dislike the other man, who so clearly had grown up with every advantage a Snart had not, if the melancholy behind his eyes hadn’t been so very obvious.

“We grew up together. I recall him as being a trifle foolish, but generally, a kind and decent person,” Sara said, affection clear in her tone. 

Leonard hummed noncommittally as they finished their chocolate and left the coffee house, Sara now carrying the basket over her arm. 

“He’s right, you know,” Leonard said as they strolled back toward the waterfront. 

“About what?” 

“Freedom. You don’t have to run from your past any longer. You could go anywhere. Maybe even go fetch yourself a cargo of your favorite tea,” he added, with a sly smirk, as they made their way back up onto the deck of the Canary.

Sara laughed at him. “That’s a silly reason to sail halfway around the world,” she said fondly...but thoughtfully.

“Not if it makes you happy.” There was something thoughtful in his own tone there, and Sara heard it.

She stopped and reached out for his hand. “And what would make you happy?” she asked, with no trace of teasing in her voice. 

He stilled. “Do you know, I can’t recall the last time anyone asked me that.” 

Sara reached up to lay her free hand against his cheek, hating the old pain that clouded his eyes. “I’m asking now,” she said softly. 

He leaned into the touch for a moment, before recalling that they were standing out in plain sight. He caught her hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “It’s foolish.” 

“More foolish than sailing all the way to China for tea?” 

He smiled a little at that. 

“Tell me, please,” Sara coaxed. 

“I’ve heard that there are islands, far to the east, where tigers roam.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Read about them, actually, back in the days when I still believed all the things in the ‘boys’ adventure stories’ I snitched from the spoiled rich kids in town could happen to me--even as they made it clear a Snart could never be a hero. I think I should like to see a place like that, someday.” 

The wistfulness in his tone was clear, the memory both painful and pleasant. Sara knew a moment of hatred for all those spoiled rich kids, and a rush of the desire to fix it.

“All right. Let’s do it!” she said, impulsively. 

“Just like that?” Leonard’s tone was amused. “Sail halfway around the world, because I’d like to see a tiger?” 

**_“Yes.”_ **

Leonard stared down into her smiling face and shining eyes, and tried to think of a reason to disagree...and couldn’t find one. It was her ship, after all. 

“You’d do that...just for me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes! I’m sure we’ll find something to keep ourselves occupied along the way, but why shouldn’t we go somewhere, just be-”

“Perhaps one of those things might be finding an old friend, who’s been far too long away from home,” a cultured voice suggested. 

Sara spun, cursing herself for being so wrapped up in her lover that she’d failed to notice an interloper on the deck of her own ship. She heard a quieter oath from Leonard behind her.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Moira Queen continued, looking every bit as regal and composed as she had in a more genteel setting. “I thought we might speak more freely, away from your parents.” 

“Ah, Captain!” Martin said, coming up on deck with a glass of port, which he offered to Moira with a courtly bow. “As you can see, we have a guest.” 

“Yes, I noticed,” Sara murmured, trying to regain her composure...and dampen the anger that had arisen at this unwelcome piece of the past in the place of her present and future.

If Moira sensed this, she did not show it. “Sara, dear, I was hoping I might persuade you to take on a commission for me.” 

“What did you have in mind?” Sara reached for professionalism to cloak her discomfort, trying to evoke the way she’d speak to any other possible patron, with a job that had nothing to do with….

The older blonde stared directly at the younger. “Find my son, and bring him home to me.” 

Sara stared at her. 

“Mistress Queen,” she began carefully, “that might not be possible. I told you. I never saw Oliver after that night, or heard any word of him. It’s entirely possible --probable, even--that he went down with the ship.” 

Moira’s voice was cold. “And yet, for all these years, we thought that you’d gone down with the ship,” she said, eyeing Sara. “If a defenseless young girl could live to tell the tale, why not my son?” 

Sara scrubbed her hands over her face. “Mistress Queen, I wasn’t rescued from the wreck of the Queen’s Gambit...I survived. And some of the things I had to do to survive were...difficult.” She could feel Leonard at her shoulder, even feel him glaring at Moira, but was just as glad he didn’t say a word.

“But you did survive, and here you are, captain of your own ship.” 

Sara sighed, and met the other woman eye to eye, steadfastly. “I’m not the girl who stepped aboard the Gambit, all those years ago. And what I’m saying is, even if I find Oliver...he might not be the same young man that you remember.” 

“He’s my son,” Moira told her, steel in her tone, and a bare bit of desperation. “He will always be my son. And I assure you, I can make it worth your while.” 

“That’s not the point,” Sara countered. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed, if we can’t find him...or if we can.” 

“Might we assume that your company conducted an inquiry?” Leonard cut in, his cunning mind already processing details. 

“Yes.” Moira’s tone was all business again as she turned her attention to Leonard. “Our solicitor in Boston will have the records. I can give you a letter of introduction.”

It was clear that, no matter what, she was not inclined to take “no” for an answer.

“Well, we do have to go back for two of our crew,” Sara mused. “The least we can do is take a look.” 

“That’s all I ask.”


	2. Chapter 2

Leonard wasn’t particularly surprised when Sara woke with a start from an obviously bad dream that night. 

“You’re safe,” he soothed, running his hand lightly over her arm as she drew in a shaky breath and shook like a leaf in a hard wind. At least this hadn’t been one of the dreams after which she came awake fighting.

Those were...interesting.

“Leonard?” she gasped, tossing as if casting about for him.

“I’m here. You’re safe.” A beat. “Want to talk about it?” 

She shook her head, the shaking and the quick breaths subsiding, if not wholly stopping.

“You know, you don’t have to accept her commission,” Leonard said quietly. “There is absolutely no reason to believe that your friend survived that night. We can just go about our business and leave the past behind.” 

“The past doesn’t seem to want to leave me behind,” Sara said shakily. “If there’s a chance that Oliver could be out there somewhere…” 

Leonard sighed heavily even as he continued to stroke her arm. “Even if he managed to escape the wreck, why hasn’t he come home on his own? Or sent a message? You said it yourself - if he’s still alive, he may not be the same fellow who got on board that boat.” 

Sara, however, remained lost in the past herself. “If you knew the things I did to stay alive…,” she whispered, “you’d never touch me again.” 

Leonard tightened his arms around Sara, holding her firmly against his chest when she would have moved away. It wasn’t something he really did - using his greater strength to restrain her in any way - but he needed Sara to know that she wasn’t ever alone in the darkness. Not anymore. It was a testament to her confidence in him that she let him hold her. 

“I could say the same...but I won’t, because whoever and whatever we were before, it’s all part of what led us to this,” he whispered. “And I wouldn’t trade this for anything.” 

After a long moment Sara relaxed back against him. When he felt tears begin to soak through his sleeve, Leonard carefully rolled onto his back, settling her against his chest. He stroked her hair soothingly. “Hush now,” he murmured. 

 

***

 

Leonard Snart was a complex man. He was possessed of a cunning and meticulous intellect. He was capable of great violence, when necessary, though **_never_** casual cruelty. Casual theft was another matter altogether, though since coming aboard the Canary, he’d limited his depredations to people who attacked him - or someone else - first. (Or, as Mick liked to phrase it - people who had it coming.) He was unwavering in his loyalty to his friends, and in his affection and patience for his sister and Sin. 

Sara, he cherished with infinite gentleness. She treasured that, knowing full well how most men would view her, this tough, capable pirate captain as deadly as any man. She’d come to rely on his strength, but the tenderness that he showed to so very few was something she valued immeasurably. She cuddled back against him, drawing his arm just a bit tighter around herself. 

“What are you thinking?” he whispered, dropping a kiss to her hair. 

“That I don’t deserve you. You’ve never asked me for anything for yourself. Not once. We shouldn’t still be here...we should be off to find your tigers.” 

“You don’t owe me anything, Sara. That’s not how this works. At least, I’m pretty sure.” 

They both chuckled softly at that. 

“But you don’t owe Moira Queen anything, either,” he continued. “Still, if you think there might be a chance that Oliver is still alive, and you want to look for him, then I’m with you. We all are. Besides, searching for your friend and taking me to see tigers aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“Mmm,” Sara hummed drowsily. 

“Do you think you can sleep now? Sin will be up and about in a couple of hours.” 

“And how is the great cabin refit coming along?” Sara wanted to know, rousing just a little.

She felt a low chuckle rumble through Leonard’s chest. 

“My best friend is an unholy slob,” he said drily. “I’ve no idea how Amaya puts up with him. I think she’ll be delighted with the renovations.” 

“Good. I think Sin will be happy to have a room of her very own.” Sara yawned, fading again.

“She should,” Leonard agreed. “Amaya spends most nights in Mick’s cabin anyway. May as well make it official. And...Sin deserves to have a space of her own.”

Sara smiled, knowing where that sentiment came from. “Maybe she’ll enjoy it so much that she’ll decide to sleep in.”

* * *

“I’m telling you, Laurel,” Tommy was saying in his most compelling tones, “most of what you hear about pirate ships is waterfront gossip. Sara’s ship is nothing like that. You’ll see. She’s really more of a...privateer.” 

“With a letter of marque from whom, exactly?” 

But the words seemed to be uttered more from force of habit than any genuine malice. Tommy had spent the last couple of days trying to reconcile Laurel with the idea that her wayward little sister was regarded as a hero by the entire city of Boston, and that other stories had begun to surface, testifying to the good works attributed to the mysterious ship and her crew. (Tommy could be quite persuasive when he put his mind to it.) 

The fashionable young man held tight to Laurel’s arm and carefully assisted her aboard the Canary. Laurel jumped and clutched his arm when Verdant squawked noisily from the rigging. 

“Pretty lady! Pretty lady!” 

“What on earth is that?” she exclaimed, tilting her head back a little to look for whomever had uttered those shrill, impertinent words.

“Verdiebird!” the bright green parrot proudly proclaimed. 

Leonard and Sin were seated on a couple of barrels nearby, the latter dutifully practicing a complicated rope knot. 

“That’s Verdant,” Leonard explained as he rose to his feet. “He belongs to our first mate...and seems to have acquired his manners. Welcome aboard!” He turned to his young companion. “Sin, run and find Sara. Tell her that her sister’s come to call.” 

The girl nodded and scrambled down from her perch. 

“Who’s that?” Laurel asked curiously. 

“Our cabin girl. Sara saved her from the wreck of her father’s ship. It was Slade Wilson’s doing.” 

Laurel swallowed hard, recalling the all-too-vivid stories being told and retold about the dreaded pirate. The dreaded pirate that **_her sister_** had defeated. And then Sara appeared on deck, and Master Snart was touching her sleeve, and leaning down to murmur something in her ear. In turn, Tommy squeezed Laurel’s arm and smiled reassuringly. 

“Master Snart, do you suppose you might show me around this rather magnificent ship?” he inquired in a hopeful tone, turning to the other man.

“It would be my pleasure,” Snart replied, giving Sara a tiny push in her sister’s direction. She took a tiny step forward, then another, and the two man vanished, their voices lingering behind them momentarily, as the sisters regarded each other.

“This is a beautiful ship,” Laurel observed, after a long and somewhat awkward moment. 

“Thank you.” Sara’s voice was just a touch strained, but Laurel either didn’t hear or ignored that note.

“Tommy says that sailors have told stories for years about a mysterious ship, very light and swift, that appears on the horizon when bad things are happening,” she said, biting her lip and watching her little sister’s expression. “And then the bad things stop, but the ship sails away before anyone can thank them. That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes, we’re lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time,” Sara admitted. But Laurel shook her head stubbornly. 

“There’s more to it than that,” she persisted, taking another step closer. “You’re a hero.” 

“I am the furthest thing from a hero.” Sara had trouble looking her sister in the eye. “ I’ve done things that there is no forgiveness for.” 

Laurel huffed out an annoyed breath. But this time, it was on her sister’s behalf.

“Sara, look at me,” she commanded in her best ‘older sister’ tone. “There is a city full of people who are alive today because of you. There’s a child on this ship who’s alive because of you. And there is a man who looks at you like you’re his own North Star. You are a hero. You’re my hero.”

She took a shaky breath. “I know I was awful the other day,” she admitted. “It’s just...it was hard, when you were gone. When we heard that the Gambit was lost, people didn’t pity me that you or Ollie had died, they pitied me that my sister ran off with my suitor. It was like I couldn’t ever get away from that. 

“And then you showed up, alive, in command of your own ship, and so beautiful! And Leonard...all the things I’d never have. Until...recently. I -”

Laurel’s words were cut off as Sara wrapped her arms around her sister in a fierce, lingering embrace. 

 

***

Leonard, watching from farther down the deck as Tommy chatted away with Martin, smiled softly, glad to see the sisters reconciled. He noticed that Sin, who was standing next to him, didn’t look quite so pleased, and nudged her gently. 

“Laurel is Sara’s big sister,” he pointed out. “Loving her doesn’t mean that Sara loves you any less, all right?” 

Sin looked up at him as if to check his sincerity, then nodded.

“Good.” 

“Why are we switching rooms around?” Sin wanted to know suddenly. She’d just moved into her new cabin the night before, and the novelty was both exciting and a bit disconcerting.

“Well, it’s so everyone can have their privacy. You, too. You’re getting to be a young lady.” 

Leonard didn’t add that it was also so that the rubbish tip Mick inhabited didn’t spontaneously ignite. They all figured Amaya would keep it from descending into that state again. Ever. 

“How do you like having the cabin all to yourself?” he asked Sin.

“I never had a room all my own before.” 

“Well, you do now.” With a smile, he started to turn back to their guest.

Sin looked up at him curiously as he did. “What’s the big deal about privacy, anyway?” 

“Sara will explain, when you’re a bit older.” 

 

***

 

“What’s it like?” Laurel asked suddenly a bit later, standing with Sara and watching Leonard explain some detail of the ship to Tommy. 

Although Tommy would certainly be considered the more conventionally handsome of the two, there was something very compelling about the older man. It was his eyes, Laurel decided. Especially the way his gaze always seemed to follow Sara. 

“What do you mean?” Sara asked absently, as she studied her ship, making mental notes about things to inspect and repair. 

Then she realized where Laurel’s attention was focused.  
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and blushed slightly. “It’s wonderful,” she admitted. 

Laurel grinned and looped her arm through Sara’s. “Tell me?” 

“Leonard is strong, and clever, and brave, but he’s also very gentle and...refined.” 

Laurel raised an eyebrow at that, but her expression was one of curiosity, rather than spite or challenge. 

“He loves beautiful things, and poetry,” Sara said with feeling. “And… he has the most amazing voice.” 

Laurel bumped her shoulder against her sister’s. “I’m happy for you. I am, really.” 

“So...Tommy?” Sara asked, leaping to a correct conclusion after a moment of reveling in having her **_sister_** back again. 

Laurel blushed, and Sara knew she’d been correct. “He wrote to me while he was in London,” Laurel admitted. “I never really expected anything to come of it. I just assumed his father would set up a match with some heiress or the daughter of a business partner.” 

“He always seemed like a good person, under all that frippery and fol-de-rol.”

* * *

Laurel and Tommy weren’t the only visitors to the ship during its interval in the harbor.

One morning not too long later, Sara stood behind Leonard on the deck, gently kneading the tightly bunched muscles of his shoulders. “You need to learn to delegate. Let Jefferson and Nate do the whitewashing,” she scolded. 

“They have their own work to attend to. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Sin. I’m fine.” But his voice cracked just a little as Sara hit a particularly sore spot.

“You are rather obviously not fine,” Sara remarked, applying pressure carefully to a knot in the muscle. Her next thoughts were scattered to the wind as she heard her father calling from the dock. 

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” 

“Dad! Mum!” Sara exclaimed, lifting her hands from Leonard’s shoulders after a final squeeze. “What are you doing here? And what’s all this?” she added, eyeing the large baskets that her mother and father were bringing aboard. 

Dinah Lance was wide-eyed as she stepped aboard the Canary. “I wanted to see this amazing ship of yours for myself,” she informed her daughter. “And I brought your things from the house.” 

Leonard stepped forward, shrugging into his waistcoat. “Let me help you with that,” he offered, taking the basket and smiling at the enormous bunch of fresh lavender perched precariously on top. 

He glanced at Sara, but she just shrugged, not entirely sure what her mother might have brought. She quickly sent Martin below to keep an eye on Sin, and her bucket of whitewash (the longer the time without supervision, the greater the likelihood of messy catastrophe), before turning her attention to her parents. 

 

***

 

Dinah glanced curiously around the cabin. It was neat and snug, as ship’s accommodations tended to be. The collection of swords hung on the wall caught her eye, and she almost asked if they were Leonard’s, but something made her hold her tongue, not entirely sure she was ready to hear the answer. 

The desk was littered with charts and maps and the ship’s log, as well as volumes of Shakespeare and Marlowe. A small mirror was on the wall. The shelf underneath held a man’s razor box and a lady’s silver comb and hairbrush set. Two well-worn linen shirts - one large, and one small - were hung on pegs to air. 

A faded blue woolen coat hung on a hook by the door, and the fine shawl Sara had been wearing her first day home was discarded on the bunk. A mending basket sat on the floor in the corner, some of the garments appearing too small to be Sara’s. Improbable as it seemed, the word that came to Dinah’s mind was “home.”

“How extraordinary,” she whispered, too low to be heard, lifting her eyes to her wayward daughter’s profile as Sara stopped to pick up a piece of lavender, turning it in her fingers.

Just then, there was a bit of ruckus in the passageway, a muttered “Drat that bird!,” and then Verdant fluttered into the cabin. 

“Pretty lady!” he informed Dinah. 

“Out!” Sara replied, pointing imperiously to the door. 

“Verdiebird stay!” 

“Verdiebird **_go.”_**

The bird squawked a bit more, then flew back out the door. “And keep him out of the whitewash!” Sara yelled after him before closing it, trusting that someone had been paying enough attention to hear her, wherever they were now.

“What was that?” Dinah asked curiously. 

“My first mate picked him up in Jamaica.” Sara smiled a little ruefully, looking at the door, then her mother. “If he wasn’t so fond of the da...ratted thing, I’d have it in a stewpot.” 

Dinah carefully smothered a smile at the cussword that very nearly escaped her daughter’s lips. “So, you finally made it to Jamaica?” 

“I did. It was Leonard’s idea, actually.” Dinah couldn’t help noticing the tone of her daughter’s voice there, the way in which she said the tall man’s name. “He’d never been, either, and well...we’d just done something that merited a bit of shore leave.” 

“I hear you’ve done quite a few things to merit shore leave. Tommy Merlyn has been making quite sure that we’ve heard about all of the adventures being attributed to you.” Dinah took a few steps closer to her daughter. “Darling, why didn’t you just tell us?” 

Sara sighed and busied herself lifting the bunch of lavender from the basket and hiding her face in it. Dinah wasn’t having any of that, and gently removed the greenery from her daughter’s grasp. 

“Mum, I know you always wanted to see the world,” Sara told her, still not meeting her eyes. “I suppose I got that from you. But the truth is, it’s not all a grand adventure. It’s a hard, cold place, and things happen.” She took a deep breath. “I’m still trying to make up for things I’ve done.” 

“But you do try,” Dinah said quietly. “That’s so much more than many other people can say.” 

“I suppose.” The muttered words evoked the rebellious teenage girl Sara’d once been, and Dinah smiled. 

“Here,” she said. “Help me with this.” 

She carefully lifted a bundle of green cloth from the basket and shook it out. Mother and daughter spread the woolen quilt on the bunk. It was just as Sara recalled - moss green, quilted mostly in plain diamonds, but with some fancy scrollwork in the corners. A needle was still stuck in one corner, where she’d never finished it. 

“You always were a fine needlewoman,” Dinah remarked, running a hand over the soft material. “Even if I did have a dreadful time getting you to sit still.” 

“This will be very nice, come winter,” Sara allowed, smiling. “Thank you for bringing it.” 

“I brought something else,” Dinah said, pulling a small silk bag from the basket. “It’s the ring your grandmother left you. I thought...well, I thought you might want it now.” 

Curious, Sara opened the bag, spilling a small silver ring onto her palm. 

“I think the words are Latin,” Dinah told her.

“They are,” Sara agreed, holding the ring up to the light and reading them out loud: “ ‘My whole heart for my whole life.’ ”

“How did you ever learn to read Latin?” 

“I’ve learned a lot of things.” And with those words, the momentary lightness of the mood vanished. Sara’s voice was steady, but her mother didn’t miss the wealth of feelings that lay behind it.

Dinah reached out and lifted her daughter’s chin with a gentle touch, so she could see her eyes. “Sara...that first ship that picked you up after the wreck. Someone on that ship hurt you, didn’t they?” 

“They did.” Sara met her eyes resolutely now. “And then I learned to defend myself. And others. I’m not so easy to hurt anymore.” 

Dinah’s eyes welled with tears. She gathered her daughter into a fierce embrace. “My baby…” 

“I’m fine, Mum.” Sara awkwardly patted her mother’s back. “It was a long time ago.” 

Dinah carefully smoothed Sara’s hair back from her face. “And Leonard, he’s good to you?” 

“He is.” 

“And you’re happy?” 

“I am, Mum.” And now Sara smiled, really smiled. “I really am.” 

***

 

On the deck,however, another miniature family drama was about to play out.

Quentin sucked in a deep breath, then approached the tall man standing at the ship’s rail. “Can I have a word, Master -”

“Leonard, and of course, sir.” Leonard had been wondering when Sara’s father would get up the nerve to actually approach him. The man didn’t seem the sort to dither in the normal course of things.

“Well, if I drop the ‘master,’ you can drop the ‘sir.’” The older man nodded to him. “It’s Quentin.” 

“Quentin. What can I do for you?” Leonard asked carefully. 

Quentin read him correctly. “Relax,” he told the former crook, with a small smile. “I’m not gonna demand that you take Sara straight to the chapel. She’s been on her own for a long time. I don’t have the right to demand anything.” 

“You’re her father, and she loves you very much.” Leonard’s tone continued to be extremely careful.

“She loves you, too,” Quentin told him. “I can see that, plain as day. And I’m glad my baby girl isn’t all alone in the world any more. However, I do have something to ask of you.” 

“If it’s in my power, sir - Quentin.” 

“It was hard, all those years, thinking that my little girl was dead.” Quentin folded his hands in front of him, setting his shoulders. “All I’m asking is, if something ever does happen, you come and you tell me.” 

“That’s not something I can promise,” Leonard said gravely. 

“Son, I’m begging you.” Quentin took a deep breath. “You don’t know how hard it was -”

“No.” Leonard held up a hand. “I’m not refusing. Of course I’ll come to you, if I’m able, but what I mean is, Sara is one of the most formidable fighters I’ve ever known. The plain fact is, anything that could take her away from me, well...I’d probably already be dead.” 

“Yeah. I figured something like that.” Quentin sighed. “It’s just...I missed her so much when she was gone.” He swiped at his eyes surreptitiously. 

Leonard pretended not to notice. “I do understand that, and I can promise you that I’ll try to get her to come home more often.” 

“That’s all I ask.” Quentin sucked in another deep breath and tried to compose himself as he changed the subject. “So, you’re really going after Oliver Queen?” 

“Sara hasn’t entirely decided yet.” Leonard leaned easily against the railing, relieved that what was probably the hardest part of this conversation was over. “She wants to look at the reports from the inquiry first.” 

Quentin shook his head. “Still can’t quite believe my wild girl is making all these big decisions and plans.” 

“Sara is very capable.” Time for some flattery, Leonard decided. “I’m guessing she gets that from you.” 

“S’pose so.” The older man smiled a little. “And the dreams and the wanderlust from her mother. Me? I never wanted to leave home. Boston was the farthest away I’ve ever been. But I don’t think Sara ever would have been content here.” 

“I think Sara’s more like you than you give her credit for,” Leonard informed him. “It’s not just adventures. She doesn’t stand for bullies or abusers. She cares about people, and she helps them.” 

“Been hearing that.” Quentin looked out at the water and shook his head with a bigger smile. “Seems that a lot of folk have been helped over the years by a mysterious ship, but no one ever got a good look at it...until now.”

* * *

For all Sara’s attempts to be sure the great whitewash endeavor didn’t damage crew or ship too much, it was inevitable that the whole thing would get a bit… messy.

“I’ve finally got Sin cleaned up,” Sara announced as she breezed into the cabin later. “I hope you two got as much whitewash on the walls as you did on each other. You look cozy,” she added, eyeing Leonard, who was jammed into a wooden washtub, lanky limbs folded ridiculously. 

Leonard shrugged - as much as he could. “No reason we couldn’t have a bit of fun, as long as the work got done. Eventually.” 

“Remind me again, which one of you is the adult?” she teased, walking around the tub to empty her pockets onto the desk. He so enjoyed doting on Sin, he’d surely be insufferable with a child of his own. And where had **_that_** thought come from?

“See something you like?” Leonard smirked, misinterpreting the slight blush that graced her cheeks. 

“Mmmm…”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “I’d ask you to join me, but there isn’t really room for **_me_** in this thing.” 

Sara giggled as she discarded most of her clothing under Leonard’s attentive gaze. She padded over to the tub on bare feet and pushed her sleeves up out of the way before reaching for the soap and washrag. She knelt down beside him, then leaned in to press a kiss behind his ear. 

“Lean forward.” 

“You’re asking a great deal, you realize,” he grumbled, but acquiesced as best he could.

Sara laughed and ran the soapy cloth over his back. Then she ran her hand lightly over the particularly bad scar on his shoulder. “How’s this?” 

Leonard made a noncommittal noise in response. 

Sara carefully pressed a line of gentle kisses all along the offending mark, then slid her arms around him and rested her cheek between his shoulders. 

“You’re going to get soaked.” 

“Too late.” 

Leonard caught Sara’s hands before they could wander lower than his chest. He lifted them to his mouth and kissed them gently, reminiscent of a night long ago and far away, when they were taking the first tentative steps of this journey. Then he realized that she held something clasped tight in one hand. 

“What’s this?” 

Cheek still pressed to Leonard’s back, Sara opened her palm. “Mum brought this. I’d nearly forgotten about it. It was my grandmother’s.” 

She felt him lift the ring from her hand. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“I want you to have it.” 

He stilled. “Sara, are you…?”

She chuckled softly, then pressed a kiss to his spine. “I still don’t think we’re quite those type of people, but the writing says ‘My whole heart for my whole life.’ I want you to have it,” she repeated. 

She felt his hands move slightly, and then he was guiding her own hand to feel the ring on his little finger. 

“It fits,” she sighed, relief tinting her tone. 

“A promise that all our future plans will include each other?” he said, echoing words spoken in a lagoon oceans away. 

“And that I will always love you.”

Leonard admired his new ring for a moment, then caught Sara’s hand again. He kissed her palm, then pressed his mouth to the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse against his lips, and eliciting a delicious little shiver. 

“Come here,” Leonard murmured. 

He tugged lightly on her arm, and Sara rose and walked around to face him, one hand still clasped firmly in his. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and Sara knew for a fact that if there was any possible way, he’d have her down in the water with him. She was also reasonably certain that his back had had quite enough of being folded into that tub. 

Sara pulled on his hand and Leonard stood, giving her a much-appreciated eyeful. She stretched up to kiss him, and he responded by grasping her waist firmly and lifting her over the side of the tub. Leonard smirked rather triumphantly at the soapy water sloshing nearly to her knees, and the rather...interestingly...placed damp spots on Sara’s shirt. 

The soft, damp, linen felt **_very_** interesting indeed beneath Leonard’s palms...and then his hands slipped up underneath her shirt, and he decided that Sara’s bare skin was more interesting still. His touches grew bolder until she was flushed with pleasure and grasping his arm for support. 

Leonard smirked and drew the rucked-up shirt off over Sara’s head. 

“See something you like?” she asked with a sultry little smirk of her own. 

“Everything.” He bent his head to kiss her. 

“I think it might be safer if we move this to the bunk,” Sara said breathlessly, long moments later. 

“Is the mighty pirate captain afraid of a little water?” Leonard teased.

Sara’s eyes narrowed in a mock-glare. “The mighty pirate captain prefers soft pillows and sheets for certain activities.” 

There really wasn’t much he could say to that, so Leonard scooped her up into his arms and very carefully stepped over the side of the tub. He laid her reverently on the bunk, then just stared for an eternal moment. She was exquisite. Even her scars didn’t detract from her beauty - not to him. To Leonard, they were just proof of her courage and strength. 

“Many are the stars I see, but in my eye, no star like thee,” he whispered.

“My whole heart for my whole life,” Sara replied. 

And there it was - words of their own choosing, more binding than any ‘proper’ church vows could ever be. 

“Kiss me,” Sara ordered, in a breathy whisper. 

Well. Who was he to refuse a command from his captain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears that "Odyssey" is not connecting correctly to the rest of the series. It is Part 5 of The Voyages of the Canary.


End file.
